HOW LIGHT SMOTE DARKNESS
Now the full story of the battle of Antioch can be told only by that
strong angel in whose book are treasured the records of the brave
deeds done in faith. When that awful book is unsealed, it will be
known why the spirits of evil beguiled Kerbogha into sitting idly in
his tent at chess, while the Christian host was issuing from Antioch;
why the two thousand Turks who held the head of the Iron Bridge
scattered like smoke at the Crusaders' first bolts, to let the
starving Franks lead their twelve "battles" across the river, and put
them in close array confronting the Moslem line. Long, however, before
the grapple came, Kerbogha and his _atabegs_ had taken the saddle, and
the Christians saw arrayed against them horse and foot innumerable; a
wide sea of flashing steel, of bright turbans and surcoats, tossing
pennons and lances on plunging desert steeds. From the extreme left
wing with the Holy Lance as special talisman borne by Raymond of
Agiles where Bishop Adhemar commanded, to the right of the long line
where Hugh of Vermandois led, there ran a thrill, and each man
whispered to his neighbor "Now!" and steeled his muscles for the
shock. No jests and laughter as often before a battle; not a soul now
had heart for that. But every eye was bright, every lip firm, and the
breath came quick and deep. There was dead hush when Adhemar in mitre
and stole went down the line followed by a great company of priests
bearing smoking censers, and in their midst a high crucifix. And when
he spoke each casqued head bowed, each knee was bent. At the sight
even the Moslems seemed to keep silence.
"The peace of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost be
in your hearts and keep you. And in the name of the Holy Trinity do
battle. Amen!"
So sounded the great benediction. When all rose to their feet, and
were locking close the spear hedge, Richard Longsword, one of the few
mounted knights who rode as guard around the Holy Lance, heard as it
were the roaring of a tempest coming down the wind from the host of
Kerbogha, a wild clangor of _atabals_ and kettledrums, and the clash
of myriad cymbals, and higher and shriller than all, the yell from the
mad devotees of Arabia and Khorassan:--
"_La ilaha ill' Allah! La ilaha ill' Allah!_"
The cry pealed from a hundred thousand throats; and the stoutest
soldier of the Cross felt a shiver and a tingling, though he were
veteran from many a well-fought field. Now, at last, was the issue
left to their good swords and God!
But while the Moslem war-shout rent the cloudless dome of morning, an
answering echo rolled onward from the Christians, and as if the very
shout were the signal, the long line rushed forward, the thousands
moving as one.
"God wills it! Death to the unbelievers!"
The lines sprang toward each other like lions of the waste; the broad
plain country that stretched northward from the river grew narrow
under their swift feet. Then avalanche smote avalanche, light wrestled
with darkness!
No horseman's and archer's battle as at Dorylæum; no passage at arms
between chieftains while the hosts stood by! But man to man they
fought; the starving Franks looking into swarthy faces, where black
eyes glanced fire and white teeth flashed hate. So for a moment the
Turkoman cavalry strove to break through the Christian spear
hedge,--for few French fought mounted that day. But the blooded
chargers recoiled from the dense line of lances, and swinging swords,
and battle-axes, as from a barrier of live fire, and reeled back to
leave the plain red with dying steeds and stricken riders.
The first blood only. For when Kerbogha saw that his horsemen could
not ride down the defiant foe at will, he flung forward his archers
and javelin-men, until the air grew dark with flying death that
searched out the stoutest armor. Then while the arrows yet screeched,
and men were falling fast, the Arabians and Turks charged home.
Charged--but though the spear wall wavered, it was not broken--while
above the shouts and howls of the infidels beseeching Allah, sounded
the chanting of the psalm from the priests who stood behind the
men-at-arms:--
"Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered; let them also that
hate Him, flee before Him!"
So for the second time the Moslems reeled back. And when Kerbogha,
sitting in the midst of his guard at the rear of the battle, saw it,
he tore his beard in rising fury, and bade Kilidge Arslan the Seljouk
lead his squadrons in circuit to fall on the Christians' rear. Now a
third time the Moslems came forward, slowly now, horse and foot, their
imams and ulamas crying to them to remember the beauty of the houris,
the joys of martyrdom, and to hew in pieces the blasphemers of the
Prophet.
At this Richard, who knew Arabic and the fury of the unbelievers,
called to his men to lock close about the Holy Lance, for now indeed
was the fated hour. Then the Christians heard, outrunning the breeze,
the wild howl of the dervishes, to whom death was more welcome than a
quiet sleep:--
"Hell and Eblees are behind you! Victory or Paradise before you!
Forward!"
"Stand fast, men of Auvergne!" rang the Norman's command; and every
lance was braced when the third shock smote them. No charging,
recoiling, countercharging, in this supreme wrestle between Christ and
Mohammed. The dead piled themselves higher, higher. The desert steeds
were spitted like birds on the Frankish lances. The stoutest spears
shivered like reeds, and targets were cleft as wicker; but the
hand-to-hand combat never slackened. Kerbogha was throwing into the
press all his numbers. Again and again Richard Longsword, with Gaston
of Béarn, the Count of Die, and Raimbaut of Orange, who fought under
Adhemar's banner, charged out, and did deeds of valor to be forgotten
only with the last _jongleur_. Each time, as the foe gave way, the
hard-pressed Christians set up their _Laus Deo_, dreaming they had the
victory. But each time the infidels surged back to the onset; pressing
closer, smiting harder, and drowning the Crusaders' prayer to Our Lady
with their mad "Allah! Allah!"
Richard, who fought about the Holy Lance, twice saw it reel in the
hands of Raymond of Agiles, as fifty unbelievers pressed close. But
the Christian footmen around it were a living wall, and not a dervish
who put out his hands to grasp the lance turned back alive. Still the
battle wavered. Rumors came down the line, now that Godfrey on the
centre was victorious, now that Bohemond was desperately beset by
Kilidge Arslan. Richard looked to his men; gaps in the lines. Brave
fellows whom he loved well were moaning or speechless under those red
heaps. But the infidels were still thronging in. The gaps were closed.
The fight raged as though the blood spilled were but oil cast into a
furnace.
And presently as Richard fought around the lance, he saw a stately
figure in gilded armor that he knew well despite the closed
helmet,--saw it come pressing through the ranks of the Moslems.
"Ho! Iftikhar Eddauleh," rang the Norman's challenge, as the roar of
the conflict lulled for a twinkling, "face to face, and man to man!"
The only answer by the Ismaelian was a lowered lance, and Rollo flew
out to greet the charge. For a moment those standing by gave place.
They met unhindered. Under the shock each lance flew to splinters, and
the good steeds were flung on their haunches.
"Again!" burst from the emir, as his cimeter glanced in the sun.
"Again!" And Richard with Trenchefer rode straight at him, the
unspeakable hate blinding to all things save his foe. Three times they
fenced, and the sparks flew at every stroke. With the fourth,
Trenchefer sheared off the black plumes on the Ismaelian's crest. A
sweeping blow from Iftikhar answered, but Richard's stout shield
parried it.
"God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!" shouted the Norman,
flinging his old battle-cry in the face of his mortal foe. But the
ruling powers would not let these mad spirits fight longer. Suddenly,
in a way none could foresee, the line of battle, as it will, swayed in
a great shock; and here Moslems were thrown back, here forward, and
comrades were torn asunder. The two were caught in the eddy and
whirled wide apart, bitterly against their wills.
"The lance! The lance is in danger!" the Christians were shouting; and
Richard saw the holy standard sink out of sight in the seething vortex
of battling men and beasts.
"Rescue, rescue, Christian cavaliers!" Bishop Adhemar was moaning; and
all unarmed as he was, the prelate was about to thrust himself from
behind the protecting shield wall into the death-press. But Gaston of
Béarn and Die and Orange, as well as Longsword, were before him.
Richard saw Gaston snatch the lance out of the clutch of two Turkomans
who grasped it, and hew down both--a blow for each. Then the lance was
raised once more, and all Crusaders praised God, and fought more
stoutly.
So for long the battle raged; no man knowing how it had fared farther
down the line, having wits only for his own struggle, and fighting
even that blindly. But suddenly upon the wind black smoke came driving
down upon the Christians. At first they scarce knew it in the fierce
delirium. Then the smoke came denser, hotter; dimming their eyes, and
setting all a-gasping. And almost sooner than the telling, the very
grass under their feet was in a flame, fanned onward by a breeze that
dashed the fire in their faces, while the deadly blast swept away from
the Moslems. Whereupon, for the first time that day, a terrible panic
fell on the Christians, as even the dead soil seemed thus to rise up
and war against them. Men cast down their swords to flee,--all the
horses plunged wildly; while with a shout of triumph, the infidels,
blessing their Prophet, pressed on to snatch the victory.
But at the very moment when all the world seemed turned to ruin,
Bishop Adhemar ran down the line up-bearing the crucifix. A hundred
paynim arrows sped toward him; not one flew true, for some angel
turned all aside.
"See!" was his cry above the howls of the dervishes. "See, Christians,
the sufferings of your Lord! Stand fast, if you would prove that
Christ died not in vain!"
And when the Franks thought of their God upon the tree,--of the Holy
Agony,--their own agony was forgot. Wounded men, whose life was
running out in blood, sprang to their feet and fought like Roland's
peers; those who had turned to flee, looked back, ran again into the
press through the mad flames, and gave the Moslems blow for blow.
Yet this could not last forever; the limit to what human might could
do was very near. Denser the smoke, hotter the fire. Barely with all
his strength could Richard now hold Rollo, and he knew while yet he
fought, that unless the smoke were turned, the boast of Kerbogha would
not be vain. A wail of despair was rising from the Christians: "_Kyrie
eleison! Kyrie eleison!_" and the triumphant "_Allah akhbar!_" of the
Moslems seemed the sole answer.
Then, even with his sinful and corporeal eyes, each Crusader had proof
that on his side strove the Lord of Battles! For as the smoke blew
blinding, with a great gust the wind changed, and the fire that
Kilidge Arslan had lit for his foes' destruction turned to his own.
Strong and fresh from the west came a piping sea-breeze, and the smoke
swept in one heavy cloud into the faces of the infidels! So sudden the
deliverance, that the Franks stood speechless, marvelling at this
great act of God. And while thus they stood, Bishop Adhemar pointed
with his staff toward the northern hills.
"Behold, Christians! Three knights clothed in white armor, the succor
promised by God! The martyrs George, Demetrius, and Theodore fight for
us! Forward, all who love Our Lord!"
Forward and ever forward. No faltering now, for it was the Moslems
that were howling to the Prophet to save them from the smoke and the
flame, and were shrinking back in panic. Down the line the Christian
trumpets were sounding the charge, and the news flew fast that Godfrey
and Tancred were sweeping all before them, while Hugh and Bohemond
held their own.
Then a marvellous madness seized the host of Adhemar. It was midday;
they were starving; they had fought for life since dawn, but each man
felt his feet wings when crossing that fire-seared plain.
"God wills it! Death to the infidels!"
At the cry even the dervishes gave way. The onrush of the Christians
made the unbelievers scatter to the four winds; the fleet
desert-steeds of the horsemen, caught in the press and panic,
struggled vainly to escape and lead the flight. The Franks were upon
them! the Franks had been granted victory by Allah! It was fate! Let
who could shun his doom!
"And the stars in their courses fought against Sisera!" cried
Sebastian, swinging his mace at the head of the St. Julien men as they
joined in the onset. Then suddenly as had changed the wind, the
Christians hardened their ranks to endure again the shock; for,
brushing aside their fleeing comrades, came the white-robed
"devoted,"--the Ismaelians, held by Iftikhar as a last reserve,--sent
forth to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat; twelve thousand
wild spirits whose one longing was to slay Christians, and hasten to
the embraces of the black-eyed maids of Paradise. Fair upon the
Frankish line, broken and disorganized even by victory, Iftikhar flung
his thunderbolt. Over the dead and over the living charged the
Ismaelians. With them went again the battle-shout raised by so many
Moslem armies, never in vain:--
"_La ilaha ill' Allah! La ilaha ill' Allah!_"
"Bear up, Christians! This is the last charge!" urged Gaston of Béarn,
but more than brave words were needed to turn that blast. The
"devoted" smote the Frankish spear hedge, and for the first time that
day broke through it. The Holy Lance went down under twenty slain;
the Christian war-cry was drowned by the howl of the Ismaelians:
"_Allah akhbar!_ Victory! Victory!" As out of a dream, Richard saw
that the battle had swept round him, with only hostile faces on every
side. But he had no time to think of peril; for he was face to face
again with Iftikhar Eddauleh himself, and at the sight he sent Rollo
straight against the grand prior.
"Again! Cid Iftikhar, let God judge between us!" he cried. But the
Ismaelian avoided the shock, swerving to one side, and answered:
"Fool! Allah has already judged! Take him prisoner, slaves! Pluck him
from his horse!"
Nothing easy; for though twenty of the "devoted" leaped to the ground
to do as bidden, they found nothing sweet in the taste of Trenchefer.
Richard put the face of Mary Kurkuas before his eyes while he fought:
should he never see her more? The thought made his arm strong as
forged steel. But just as the Ismaelians were crying to their lord
that the terrible Frank could never be taken alive, and begging to use
their swords, a blow of a mace crushed Longsword's right shoulder. His
arm sank at his side, and Trenchefer nigh dropped from the numbed
fingers. He saved the sword with his left hand, casting away the
shield.
"Yours! Seize! Bind!" exhorted Iftikhar. Yet even now there was a
struggle, for Rollo that loved his master well made his great hoofs
fly as he plunged and reared, and Richard's left arm dealt no weak
blow.
"Cowards!" thundered the grand prior; "let me curb in the horse!" But
while he pressed nearer, a terrible howl of dread went up from the
"devoted" themselves.
"Allah save us! All is lost! The Christians conquer!"
And as Iftikhar and Richard looked about them they saw the "battles"
of Tancred and Godfrey, that had not endured the Ismaelian's charge,
bearing down in serried line to drive this last Moslem squadron from
the field.
"Turn, Iftikhar Eddauleh!" Louis de Valmont's voice was ringing,
"turn, and fight!" But Iftikhar only gave a bitter curse, and spurred
away among his men. Adhemar's division had been shattered, not
dispersed. The Christians were pressing in on all sides. The cry was
spreading that Kilidge Arslan was in flight. The Franks saw Iftikhar
re-forming his "devoted"--much less than twelve thousand now, though
none had fled away; they half heard the imprecation he called upon
them if they rode in vain. They formed, they charged; each rider a
demon upon a steed possessed. They cast away their lives with an awful
gladness. But the Christian spear wall was as iron, though pressed by
springing steel. There was no other charge. Where the Ismaelians
struck, they fought; where they fought, they died; and where they
died, no other Moslems leaped to take their place. The thunderbolt had
fallen--the storm had passed!
And now praised be God the Son, and Mary ever Blessed! The infidels
were become as stubble to Prince Tancred's sword, and to Bohemond,
Hugh, and Godfrey. Loud and victorious sounded now the chant, ever
repeated:--
"Let God arise; let His enemies be scattered!"
And scattered they were! "How is it, Lord?" said the chronicler; "how
dare men say that it was not Thy doings that the great host of
Kerbogha melted like the spring snows before us, when we were weak
with famine, and one where they were three? How, save by Thy help, did
our poor jaded steeds fly like eagles after their Arabs, and overtake
those chargers swifter than the lightnings? How, save by Thy grace,
did Prince Tancred ride alone against an hundred, and see them flee as
leaves before the gale?" How? The whole army knew, for the age of
doubting had not come.
"Not unto us, Lord; not unto us! But unto Thy name be the glory!" was
the prayer of Adhemar, as he stood with his priests about him, while
far to the eastward and northward drifted the rout and pursuing. For
there was no valor in the Moslems now. Their chiefs fled swiftest of
all; one way Kerbogha, another Dekak of Damascus, another Kilidge
Arslan. And their camp with a treasure worth half the wealth of
France, and swarming with eunuchs and harem women, had become a spoil
to the servants of God and His Christ. The thought however was not of
spoil, but of pursuit and vengeance. Loudest of all among the priests
sounded the voice of Sebastian, urging on the warriors.
"The heathen are sunk down into the pit that they made; in the net
which they made is their own foot taken! Pursue--follow after; tarry
not; for this is the acceptable day of the Lord--the day when one of
you shall chase a thousand; when you shall smite the infidels as
Israel smote Amalek--man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep,
camel and ass! Destroy, let not one escape!"
Fierce and unflagging the pursuit. Tancred mounted his footmen as
swiftly as they could capture horses, and hunted the fleeing Moslems
over plain and mountain. Here and there the despairing Turks and
Arabians turned like beasts at bay when the terrible Franks crashed on
them. But there was no strength left in a Moslem's arm. Doom--doom
against the servants of the Prophet had been decreed by the stars--not
the might of all Islam could turn back the stroke of fate. Here and
there the raging Christians came on foes who cast down the useless
weapons, and stretching out their hands, cried in a tongue which all
knew: "Quarter! Mercy!" But they had better pleaded with stones; for
that day there was none of mercy. The battle had begun with the
morning; the shadows were lengthening on the hills when Tancred turned
back his pursuers near Harin, halfway to Aleppo, and rode back toward
Antioch, still galloping, for fear his comrades had squandered all the
spoil.
Long before the last chase was ended, Richard Longsword had been borne
to the city. Despite his crushed shoulder and lifeless arm, he had
urged on Rollo to the pursuit, almost hoping that he would meet
Iftikhar once more; though how, all maimed, he could have fought the
Ismaelian, St. Michael only knew. He saw the last struggle around the
encampment of Kerbogha, where the camp-followers tried to defend the
palisade and were destroyed by firing the barrier; he saw the
Christians dragging out the spoil,--rarest silk and webs of Ind, and
unpriced gems; fifteen thousand sumpter camels; howling slave girls;
shivering servants. He knew that the great battle, the battle against
the infidel he and his fellows had dreamed of so long, had been
fought, and won; and that the tale of the victory would fly from
Britain to Tartary. And yet he half felt a sense of sadness: he had
met Iftikhar Eddauleh face to face, and yet the Ismaelian lived. They
told him that when the last charge failed Iftikhar had turned his
steed's head and ridden away, joining Kerbogha and the fleeing emirs
and _atabegs_. Then Richard breathed a deep curse; for he knew, though
no clear reason came, that the grand prior, coward though his flight
had proven him, would in some way work great ill either to himself or
those he loved. He bade the St. Julieners search the camp to find if
Mary Kurkuas and Musa had been present at the battle. No trace; he was
at once saddened and relieved. Then, just as the first procession of
triumph, laden with dainties and rich wines from the camp for the
starving city-folk, was preparing to enter Antioch, the Norman felt of
a sudden the firm earth whirling, and as his sight dimmed, the din in
his ears drowned all the _Glorias_ and _Te Deums_ of the rejoicing
multitude. Herbert saw him reel on Rollo's back, and caught him just
as he dropped to the earth. Sebastian loosed his casque--found it full
of blood; a dervish's blade had cleft to the bone. His shoulder was
crushed; from ten more spots he was bleeding. The St. Julieners laid
their baron on a litter of lances and bore him to the city. Nor did
Richard know aught more for many days.